


The Golden Raoultriever

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crack, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 17:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: When Raoul drinks a mysterious bottle of wine supposedly from Christine, he is transformed into a dog. Fortunately the Daroga is in the area. Unfortunately, Erik is certainly plotting something...





	The Golden Raoultriever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [generalsleepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalsleepy/gifts).



One evening, the night of a riveting performance of _Faust_ , Raoul was sitting in his typical opera box, waiting for the Daroga to show up, when a courier showed up with a bottle of wine. The note on the wine said that it was from Christine.

Raoul was a bit confused. Christine didn’t usually send him things like this, besides which, she knew he wasn’t a big drinker. However, it was a gift, and he couldn’t refuse a gift. So he began to drink it. And, since it was actually very sweet and the music was distracting, he chugged the whole thing.

He then felt a sensation as if the world had begun to twist and spin and change in size. Wow, he thought. That was some strong stuff.

In fact, it was so strong that he apparently was hallucinating now, because when he looked down at his arms, they seemed to be covered with yellow fur. Also, his clothes had disappeared, and the rest of his body was covered in yellow fur too. He let out a cry of surprise.

“Arooo!”

It was at this point that he realized he had been turned into a dog. That or he was hallucinating having been turned into a dog. He wasn’t sure which. Damn it. Christine should have known better than to send him wine.

Behind him, he heard a vague, echoing chuckle. And then, the voice of the phantom. “So, monsieur, we see what kind of beast you turn out to be. Well, it is not as…”

But whatever the phantom had to say about this turn of events was interrupted by the box door opening, and the arrival, the late arrival, of Raoul’s lover, the one and only Daroga of Paris, otherwise known as Nadir Khan.

* * *

Nadir was not usually late for things like this.

In fact, he had a bad habit of showing up at the de Chagny box before Raoul did, which had caused an awkward scene once when Philippe showed up instead of Raoul and calmly demanded an explanation of why Nadir had a key to the box in the first place. Since then he’d been more careful, but at least when he and Raoul set an hour for a rendezvous he was usually precisely on time. However, today he had been held up by one thing and another. Darius had caught a cold. None of the coaches for hire had been inclined to stop for him. He’d met an acquaintance in the street and been caught up in conversation. As a result he was more than half an hour late for his evening with Raoul and fully prepared to apologize, until he entered the de Chagny box and realized Raoul was not even there.

A series of thoughts ran through his head:

  1. Raoul was late again! And very late indeed this time. What could be the matter?
  2. It was rude of him, but then, this meant he would never have to know that Nadir had also been late. Nadir would be gracious when he showed up and the secret could stay a secret.
  3. On the other hand, what if Raoul had showed up, despaired of Nadir ever showing, and left already? It didn’t seem like him, but… he did have his moods…
  4. Wait, was that a dog?



It was indeed a dog.

Nadir took a closer look. The dog was curled up on one of the seats in an awkward manner, sitting on its hind legs. It looked at Nadir woozily, then let out a harsh bark—cutting through the opera music—and lunged forward to lick him messily on the face. Nadir laughingly forced it down to the floor, and it settled with a whine.

“Good boy, good boy… Is that alcohol?” Nadir wrinkled his nose. Yes, the dog’s breath smelled like alcohol. How terrible! “Here boy… who’s been giving a good dog like you booze?”

He rubbed the dog’s head apologetically. Unfortunately, in a place like this, it could be anyone. The Opera Populaire got all kinds. It could even have been one of the actors.

There was a sudden hand on Nadir’s shoulder, and he looked up to see Erik. He frowned. “What are you doing in the Vicomte’s box?” He knew the two had never been friendly.

“That is my dog,” Erik said. “The Vicomte stole it and has gotten it drunk. Rude boy, I don’t know what you see in him.” He snapped his fingers. “May I have my dog back, or will you insist on fondling him?”

It didn’t sound like a likely story. Erik was a definite cat person. Besides, the dog was growling at Erik—didn’t seem like the two were all that close. Nadir pulled the front half of the dog up onto his lap and put his arms around its head protectively. “Erik, you should know I won’t fall for your lies.”

“Are you calling me a liar, monsieur?”

“I’ve called you worse.”

“Give me the dog.”

“I do not think it is your dog. And if you let people go around giving it wine, you clearly don’t know how to keep it. Now, be on your way.” Nadir raised his eyebrows.

Erik crossed his arms. “Daroga…”

“Erik.”

“Fine,” Erik huffed. “For now. But I’ll be seeing you later, and I’ll want my dog back then.”

He walked off still grumbling.

“I don’t think Raoul would get you drunk,” Nadir said to the dog. “He’s a good boy. Just like you.” He scratched the dog’s ears, and the dog’s tail thumped against the floor. “He probably saw you wandering the halls and brought you in here… now why would Erik want to steal you? Well, we’ll wait for Raoul and see what he has to say.”

So they waited. But Raoul never showed up.

When the show was over and the audience largely gone, Nadir sighed. “Seems I’ve been stood up again. Well, no use waiting.” He would send Raoul a note tomorrow demanding an explanation. A very strongly worded note.

He took the dog back to his flat with him. No use leaving a good dog wandering an opera house. It could easily fall prey to a dog catcher, and that would be a pity. Or more ruffians like whoever had given it wine… at any rate, it was far better off with him than here. And it seemed content to follow him, though it did bark a lot.

But it had been polite and not barked much during the show, so it was clearly a well mannered dog.

* * *

Raoul had rather supposed his turning into a dog to be a dream. However, when he woke up the next morning, still a dog except now a dog with a migraine, he realized this was not so.

He tried to explain things to Nadir, as indeed he had tried last night. But, just as last night, all that resulted was a lot of meaningless barking. Dog mouths and human mouths did not work the same way. The barking also made his migraine worse.

Nadir eventually told him to shut up and be a good dog, which made Raoul growl. Usually when Nadir scolded him there was good reason, but in this case Raoul was in the right! He had to tell Nadir that it was him, and he just couldn’t get through.

At least Nadir gave him some food. It wasn’t dog food, either—Nadir didn’t keep a dog, so he fed him some scraps of breakfast. He was the cook this morning for Raoul, himself and Darius, who apparently had a cold.

Raoul, who knew Darius mildly well, whined at him apologetically. It was too bad he had to intrude on their home and cause trouble while someone was sick. Darius smiled and patted him on the head.

“Darius,” Nadir said sharply, “you’ll give the poor thing a cold. Isn’t it bad enough someone has given it alcohol and it has a hangover? Leave it alone.”

Darius apologized in Persian, and Nadir told him that the dog only seemed to understand French, and he apologized again in French. Raoul nudged his hand forgivingly. Then he went back to pestering Nadir. There had to be some way to break through…. Ah! He had it!

He ran off to Nadir’s bedroom. Luckily the door had been left open—as a dog he was not great at knobs and latches, never mind locks. He found there a bottle of cologne he had given Nadir only a month ago for his birthday, which he grabbed in his mouth and brought back to the parlor, where he showed it to Nadir triumphantly.

Nadir grabbed it from him. “Bad dog. This is expensive.”

What? Raoul barked and tried to grab at the cologne again, but Nadir just said, “Sit.”

Unfortunately he was too much in the habit of listening to Nadir when he used that tone of voice not to obey.

“Listen up. If you’re going to be staying here for now, we need to establish some ground rules. Don’t touch things on tables or bureaus. Don’t sit on the upholstery without permission. Don’t get up on the table. Don’t chew on shoes or… other things…” Nadir scratched his head. “Well, I think that does it.”

Darius laughed hoarsely. “Sir, the dog can’t understand you.”

“He’ll understand,” Nadir said menacingly, and he gave Raoul a Look.

Raoul whimpered. He rather liked sitting on Nadir’s couch, it was so soft… well, for now he would have to put up with it. Sadly, he curled up on a corner of the floor. Nadir petted him on the back and told him not to be too sulky, and went back to conversing with Darius in Persian.

The day was mostly uneventful, apart from Raoul’s being a dog, until halfway through the afternoon, there was a visitor. It was Philippe.

“My brother mentioned he might see you last night.”

“We sometimes meet,” Nadir said guardedly. “And I had thought to see him at the opera last night, yes, but plans do fall through…” He leaned against the doorframe. Looked tense—poor man, he was always nervous around Raoul’s family. “Is there something I can do for you, monsieur?”

“Raoul never came home last night,” Philippe said. “I merely wondered… Well, I wondered if he might have been with you.” Having made this suggestion, he folded his hands. He, also, was nervous around Nadir—probably because while the affair was an open matter in Raoul’s family, it was not so open anywhere else, and in fact Philippe and Nadir had never point-blank discussed it at all.

“No. No, I did not see him.”

“Oh. Well, if you see him…”

He looked very worried. Raoul pushed past Nadir and lunged at him, climbing up him to nudge his face reassuringly.

Nadir cleared his throat. “Monsieur, is this dog yours?”

“…no.” Philippe frowned. “Why, is it not yours?”

“I found it in monsieur le Vicomte’s box last night, where monsieur le Vicomte himself was not. It is a strange matter. Worse, he was dead drunk—the dog I mean—and had a hangover half this morning. You’re sure you’ve never seen him?”

“No. Though dogs look much alike; I cannot say for sure…”

“Well, this is certainly a puzzle. It should be investigated further.” Nadir frowned. “This evening I will go to the opera house and see what I can find out. If your brother was there, someone will know it. And if he was not, someone will have noticed that as well. If no one else, Miss Daae… I will let you know the fruits of my investigation when it is done.”

Philippe seized and shook his hand. “Thank you. Thank you, my good man. All day I have been haunted by dread… he is fragile, you know, and I do worry. But I am sure it is all nothing.” His expression belied the words. “Please do let me know what you find out. Au revoir.”

* * *

So Nadir went out that night. Raoul wanted to go with him, and see if he could at least get through to Christine—of all people, she always understood him—but Nadir locked him up in his bedroom, with a firm reminder not to go on the bed but to stay on the floor. So he curled up, bored, and fell asleep.

He woke at the sound of the window creaking open. A dark shadow filtered into the room—well, a man, really, for though he looked like a shadow in his dark clothing and black barbe mask, but to a dog’s nose he smelled like sweat and dirt and the lingering perfumes of the Opera Populaire, which identified him rather clearly.

“At last, monsieur, I have you to myself,” the phantom murmured. “I would have earlier, if not for that nosy daroga… He will someday learn not to meddle in my affairs. An annoying man, isn’t he?”

Raoul growled.

The phantom snorted. “Of course, I forgot you two are much too fond of each other. He even likes you in your true form—that’s what this is, by the way. I thought it might profit him and Christine to see you as you truly are, rather than as the perfect, gentlemanly lover you pretend to be. So—the potion to reveal one’s true self, a delicate brew. I had hoped to find a rat or a toad, but you are rather boring. At least I don’t think Christine likes dogs, even if the daroga does.”

Raoul barked.

“Shh—you’ll bother the servant. You wouldn’t want to see me and him in a fight, would you? Tch…”

Hm. True. Raoul would have to take care of this for himself. He didn’t know why the phantom had come here or what he planned to do, but it couldn’t be good. Better to get rid of him.

He was not very coordinated in his dog body, honestly, and was hardly an attack dog, by practice or by breed. But with enough energy, it didn’t matter. He jumped on the phantom and bit at him, ripping the fabric of the barbe mask. The phantom dodged backwards, clutching at the mask, holding it onto his face. “Damn you!”

Raoul bit him on the leg. Hard.

It was too bad he knew for a fact he didn’t have rabies. He would have liked to give the phantom an infection.

The phantom hobbled back to the window. “Very well, monsieur—you win another round! But sooner or later they will see you for what you are, and know that a slavering dog is not so great a thing! And we will meet again!”

He actually tipped his hat before scaling down the wall. Raoul barked into the street until he could see the shadow no more.

His barks never did summon Darius, though, so the phantom had been wrong about that much.

Nadir came home late, but whatever he found out, he shared it with Darius in Russian and with Raoul not at all. It had him concerned, by the wrinkle of his brow, though not panicked. He absently stroked Raoul for a few minutes before climbing into bed. And then all the house slept.

* * *

Nadir was starting to get worried.

Another day passed with no sign of Raoul. Then another. Usually Philippe’s worries were fabricated—Raoul had told him stories of his overprotectiveness time and time again—but in this case, things were looking dire. Raoul was a homebody, a mama’s boy and an endearingly clingy lover. There was no way he would vanish like this without telling anyone, unless it was foul play.

Nadir, of course, had a suspect in mind. As always.

Erik had not seemed to be engaged in anything too… atrocious… the night Raoul had disappeared. He had seemed honestly nonchalant, hardly in one of his darker moods. But Erik was also a great liar, and he had clearly been lying at least a little that night—on the subject of the dog, which he had never showed up to claim, and which had not seemed to like him that much anyway. Smoke followed fire—what else had Erik been lying about that night?

Clearly Nadir should have pressed him harder.

Well, he would press him now. He headed down into the tunnels of the opera house with a torch in his hand and a gun in his pocket. Erik had mentioned the idea of kidnapping Raoul before. He’d never followed through on it, but if this time he had, Nadir would make him regret it. And he would bring Raoul safely home.

The tunnels were as twisty as ever. It seemed to Nadir that between visits their paths changed; he knew this couldn’t be true, but every time he came down, he found new ways to get lost. Today was no different. Still, at last he found himself on the shore of Erik’s lake. He did not much like the prospect of swimming across, but if he had to…

“Daroga. What are you doing here?”

Ah. Erik was here already.

He was standing in the shadows. When he stepped out, Nadir spotted something odd—a white bandage wrapped around one of his palms. An injury? Nadir swung between concern and suspicion—he did not like Erik getting hurt, but if he had been in a fight…

Erik laughed when he saw what Nadir was looking at. “Ah. I have been having conversations with your dog.”

“My dog now, is it? And when have you… have you been breaking into my flat again?”

Erik crossed his arms. “Well, if you didn’t know about that, what are you down here for? You never come just to visit.”

“I want to know what you’ve done with the Vicomte de Chagny. I know it was you.”

“Indeed? What evidence has brought you to that conclusion?”

No evidence whatsoever, but a healthy amount of paranoia. “Erik.”

Erik sighed. “Well, I’ll admit it was me. But it’s all been very fruitless. Here.” He took a small bottle out of his pocket and tossed it to Nadir, who barely caught it. “Give this to your dog.”

Nadir examined the bottle, which had no label. When he looked up, Erik was gone.

“Erik!”

No reply.

“Bastard,” Nadir muttered. “If you…”

But it was all he was likely to get out of Erik today. Useless to push. And Erik had been very frank, and not at all dire, so… maybe things were not so bad as Nadir had been imagining? Whatever was going on.

Or Raoul’s disappearance had nothing to do with Erik whatsoever, and he was only playing with Nadir for his own amusement. With Erik, one could never tell.

He headed home.

He smelled the contents of the bottle carefully, while the dog whined at his feet, disturbed by Erik’s smell perhaps. It would be beneath Erik to poison a dog, right? But what on Earth could be in the bottle? Was the dog sick, did it need medication? If it wasn’t Erik’s dog, why would he have anything for it?

The dog rubbed against Nadir’s legs.

Nadir sighed. He did not like trusting Erik, but. On occasion a leap of faith was necessary.

He mixed the bottle’s contents with water and gave it to the dog with the stern command to drink. The dog was not terribly eager, but it obeyed.

When he had drunk the last drop of the mixture, he let out a belch that smelled of chemicals. Then he lurched back, and up on his hind legs, and quite suddenly he was Raoul de Chagny.

Darius, who had been watching all this with great interest, let out a shriek.

Raoul was naked.

Nadir stumbled backwards.

Raoul rubbed his face. “Well… that’s better. Hm? Have I gotten stubble?” He frowned.

“Raoul,” Nadir said faintly.

He almost collapsed, but Raoul rushed to support him. “Oh, sorry! I know I must have startled you, and I’ve been worrying you a lot. I did try to explain. It was something in the wine, turned me into a dog. But you see I’m perfectly fine.”

“…Raoul…”

“Only,” Raoul said, “I really could use some clothing. Do you suppose I could borrow some of yours?”

* * *

In the future, Raoul did not accept any more bottles of wine as presents, even if he knew the senders, even if he was presented with them face-to-face. In fact, he did not even accept food, except from Nadir, who he said was very trustworthy and an excellent cook. And on that subject, it was arranged that Nadir come over for dinner at the de Chagny manor, a gesture of Philippe’s gratitude—besides, the de Chagnys all said, it was about time they got to meet Raoul’s special friend.

Philippe was very grateful to Nadir for finding Raoul, though he was a bit cool when he heard their explanation for his disappearance—he did not outright call them liars, but he did favor them with a very skeptical expression. To be fair, Raoul did smell of dog… but this was Paris, and it was the modern day, and these things did not happen, any more than phantoms walked the streets.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt which was... well, "Daroga/Raoul, Raoul gets turned into a golden retriever." YUP.  
> I feel like if I tried hard enough I could probably make a pun using Daraoulga and something to do with dogs but I'm not gonna bc it's too late at night.  
> I had fun!! I hope you did too, reading it!! good night.


End file.
